It's Elementary, Dear Sister
by x.MissWhitneyBex.x
Summary: Is Sherlock really dead? 29 year old, Henley Thorne leaves one day to help John but get's a lovely surprise while she's at it. Join Henley as she goes out and gets the thrill and adventure of being a detective with the same initiative as Sherlock Holmes. But as secrets unfold, how will events turn out.
1. Not Dead

**Hello! I am Rebecca, Bex, and I love making fanfics! I've made 23 fics in the space of a year and two weeks which is quite surprising for me. Maybe you check them out sometime. I am British, from the UK. And I love Sherlock so this is my first fic of this and I hope I do it to your standards. Please note, I am specialized in other genres. **

**Disclaimer: Do not own Sherlock. BBC does. I own the plot and any characters that the show do not own. **

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_Henley's POV: _

I woke up and smelt the fresh air from the window at the far side of my bedroom. Smiling, I got up, pulling my silk nightgown on. Today was going to be... _special_. I knew it. I knew it so. I checked the site I had been following for a couple of months now. Made by some guy called 'Anderson'. He believed that dear Sherlock was alive. The question is... Do I? He updated it. I sighed. Same old, same old. Someone had spotted Sherlock Holmes in a certain country. Anderson said that he was going in a pattern and that England was next. Well, I'll be ready. I'll be so ready.

My servant came and gave me my freshly cleaned towel. I thanked him with a kiss to his cheek. I felt him squirm under my spell. "Run the bath." I whispered. He nodded quickly and ran to my bathroom. I smiled to myself and walked in to find him feeling the temperature of the water. Satisfied he put his hands out. I took my gown off and gave it to him. He left my bathroom to leave me to strip off completely. Dipping my feet in the water, I put my head back, sighing in relief.

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I rang the doorbell of 221B Baker Street. John Watson opened the door. I put my right hand out to him. "Henley Thorne. At your service." I said, smoothly. He just stared at me and I raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Could he read me? No. He wasn't as good as dear Sherlie. He shook my hand and tilted his head.

"I don't think I need your service?" He said, confused. I smiled and scoffed, pushing gently through the door. "Urm, excuse me?" He said. "What do you think you're doing?" He closed the front door and followed me upstairs to the living room. So this is where Sherlock spent his days. I smelt in the faint cologne he used. Well, the one I thought he used. I hadn't smelt him in years. I snapped out of my reverie and went to his laptop, opening up Anderson's Blog. "That's... Who did you say you were again?" He said in realization before ignoring his speculations.

"Henley Thorne. I am your partner. Only temporary." I said, looking through the recent posts.

"Did Sherlock ask for you to do this? Or the police?" He asked. I looked up at him. Smiling, I sighed.

"I was guessing you needed someone to help you solve cases." I said.

"I gave up that when Sherlock Holmes died." He said bitterly. I scoffed and he looked at me, confused.

"Is that what you believe, John?" His heart seemed to stop when I said his name.

"How do you know my name?" I rolled my eyes.

"TV. Blogs. Sherlock's Blog." He nodded in realization. "I can profile you." I smirked.

"Pardon?" He asked. "Profile me? What...?" I didn't wait for him to continue to be dumb.

"Ex-Army doctor. Sister. You don't get on much. She drinks. Has falling outs with her partner, Clara, is it? Oh, Harry's a Harriet, by the way. Used to use a walking stick but your leg's perfectly fine now. People think you're gay but you're happily married." I finished.

"How did you...? Who _are _you?" He stepped away from me. "How did you know all that stuff. How did you _analyze _me? Who...?" He was really confused. I stood up and walked up to him.

"John, is that you, honey?" We heard someone say. A woman in her late mid-thirties came up and stood there, looking at the both of us. "Who's this?" She asked. I walked up to her, hand out.

"Henley Thorne. Associate of Sherlock Holmes." I introduced.

"So that's who you are, now, huh?" John spat at me. "Associate? How come he never spoke of you?" He asked. I looked down.

"He thought I was out of his life forever. Him and Mycroft." I told them.

"What's his brother got to do with this?" John asked as his wife, I analyzed, sat down and looked at me.

"Because she's our sister." Said a voice. I grinned as we all shot towards the one who had spoken.

"But... you're dead!" John's wife, stood up, saying.

"Faked. I am Sherlock Holmes for God's sake, woman!" He shouted, coming up to me and grabbing me by my arm. "How did you find me? Where have you been for all these years?" He hissed.

"Dead." I laughed. "Faked too." I said.

"Look at you. You're rich, manipulative, busy, cold, ice, clean and warm...?" His eyebrow furrowed in confusion. "No... You're never warm. You're cold-blooded like the rest of us, aren't you Hen?" He smiled, scoffing.

"I missed my older brothers." I tried.

"More like missed getting them into trouble." Sherlock shook his head. "I despise you. Why are you here?" He asked me again. I stayed quiet and stared at him. "ANSWER ME, HENLEY!" I jumped when he raised his voice at me.

"Sherlock, if you can just calm down and let us take this all in." John said from across the room. Sherlock told him to shut up. John nodded and sighed, looking at his frightened wife and comforting her.

"Mother's dead. I want you to help me solve her murder. And when you finish with that, I want to join in with the adventure. You get a kick out of this stuff, don't you, Sherlie? I want to feel that same adrenaline you get when you solve all these impossible cases. I want a bit of you." I said, my face close to his.

"Father hates me." He whispered.

"Father hates me too." I retorted, gently. "Well...?" I asked.

"It's Elementary, Dear Sister." He said, kissing my cheek. "Sweet, sweet elementary. My answer's yes, by the way." He said, walking off to John's laptop. I let out the breath I unconsciously held in. "Well?" He asked.

"Oh! Yes, Mother's murder." I said, rushing to him with my Gucci handbag.


	2. New Friends

**I am so shocked with Sherlock season 3 starter. I loved it! Did you? Post a review and tell me what you thought of it. **

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"Wrong." Sherlock randomly said, he and I fencing in his living room. I tilted my head.

"Pardon?" I asked him.

"Mother is not dead. I Skyped her this morning." He said. I put my sword down and sighed. "Henley, you did not have to make that up. I asked her why would you even think of doing that and she said that she hadn't even heard from you in seven years." He took his helmet off.

"Sherlock, is it so wrong that I want to have a life?" I asked as John and Mary came into the room. Sherlock walked up to the door and looked at me.

"Yes." I scoffed. He turned to John. "Are you really thinking of keeping that?" Gesturing to the top of his lip.

"Uh, yeah. Mary likes it." He said, smoothing his mustache down.

"No. Wrong. She hates it." John glared at Sherlock.

"No, you mean, _you _hate it." He turned to Mary who shrugged innocently.

"I hate it." She admitted. I giggled a bit.

"Oh great! Thanks a lot guys." John said, leaving.

"Oh, John! I like it!" I called after him, smirking with Mary.

"Don't care!" He retorted.

"What is wrong with the world!?" Sherlock randomly screamed. I was used to this. Mary wasn't.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I have been bored for hours." He started pacing.

"Excuse me? So, you're saying I'm boring?" I smirked.

"Yes, yes I am. Why isn't there murders or mysteries to solve?!" He shouted.

"Probably because no-one knows you're alive." Mary offered.

"A man called Anderson thinks you're still alive." I said. Sherlock whipped his head to me and tilted it.

"Philip Anderson?" He asked.

"Yeah, has a blog about where you've been sited and stuff. Mycroft can be very conniving when he wants to." I smiled. "Anyway, he said that England would be where you 'hit' next and guess what? You have!" I said.

"Henley! Get dressed. We're going to visit old friends." Sherlock raised an eyebrow at me. I grinned and went to my new bedroom to get changed. I wore a black tight fitting knee-length dress and wore heavy makeup, making my lips blood red. When I finished, I grabbed my famous trench coat and slipped it on, tightening the straps around my waist. Satisfied, I went back to the living room to see Sherlock waiting impatiently. "Took your time." He said, walking past me.

"I'm a woman." I pouted, following him out the door. He hailed a cab and I got in with him. Mary and John used their own car.

...

"Who are you?" DI Greg Lestrade asked me.

"Henley..." I was wondering if I could use my real surname or my fake one. "Holmes." Lestrade's head shot to mine in shock.

"Are..." He stared at me. "You look alike." He said. "Wait, are you his wife or...?" I snorted. Laughing, I shook my head.

"I was actually thinking you were clever when you said we looked alike. I am his sister. Nice to meet you, Gregory." I put my hand out for him to shake. He looked at it. Hesitating, he shook it.

"Actually, it's just Greg, Miss Holmes." He said, almost blushing around my presence.

"Then it's just Henley." I smiled. We released hands and I sat down in front of his desk. "I am here because of a man called Philip Anderson." I went straight to it. Lestrade sat down and sighed, leaning back.

"What has he done now?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Nothing, Greg. Just an innocent fan of his theories of how my estrange brother is alive." I told him.

"You believe him too?" He asked me.

"Oh, I know it's true. Sherlock is indeed, alive, DI Lestrade." I went back to formal calling.

"Don't tell me you're bonkers too. Sherlock Holmes is dead! He has been for two years. John Watson saw him fall and plunge to his death." He said, somehow very calmly.

"Sir, with high respect, I am not bonkers and I do believe my brother is alive. I've seen him with my own eyes." I told him. He scoffed and sighed.

"Then call him up and we'll have a party(!)" I could tell he meant that as a joke. Sick one at that.

"Can I profile you?" I asked him. He looked at me, blank expression.

"So does it what? Run in the family, now? Going around profiling people? Revealing secrets? Go ahead, Miss Holmes." He said.

"Used to have an on-again-off-again relationship with your ex-wife but you found out that she had buried secrets. Sleeping with someone else, eh? You don't smoke but still you wear nicotine patches. Calms the mind. Just like Sherlock does. A lot in common though. Lonely men. No women in their lives. You trust and believe in my brother. Thank you for that. You're doubting that he is actually really alive. But how can you doubt that he isn't?" I left him to ponder in his thoughts for a while. "Time's up. Answer." His eyes were wide with surprise and curiosity. Read like a book.

"I don't know." He whispered.

"Exactly." I leaned over his desk. He tried to keep his eyes on mine but now and then, I smirked when they reached lower. "Eyes up here." I whispered. He looked at me. "Sherlock Holmes is alive." I firmly said. He nodded. "Come in, now." I said. We looked over to the door and saw John, Mary and Sherlock enter. "Now do you believe me, Gregory?" I asked, folding my arms.

"It's Greg and I think he does." Sherlock said. I rolled my eyes.

"Where have you been for two years, Sherlock?" Lestrade said, standing up.

"Trust me, that's what I've been thinking these past two years." John muttered.

"How did you do it?" Lestrade asked.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked, knowing perfectly what he meant.

"How did you fake your death?" John asked this time.

"Oh it was easy. I am Sherlock Holmes. Figure it out man. Know-it-all. Sit down and I'll tell you my story." I sat down in a chair and leaned back, without a care in the world. I sat back down and waited till everyone else was seated. Without waiting any longer, Sherlock began his story.

When he was finished, I sat there, unimpressed. "Huh." I let out.

"'Huh.'? What do you mean by 'huh'?" Sherlock asked.

"Well... We were expecting something more... genius." Mary said. Sherlock shot up.

"Genius?! That was genius! Actually, you're right. It wasn't. All Mycroft's idea." He sat back down and folded his hands together. Mary still wasn't used to his odd behavior. "I would have thought of something more... awesome." He smiled to himself.

"Actually, I really wanted one of Philip's theories to be true." I said, shrugging.

"You were always like that." Sherlock sighed.

"Pardon me?" I asked him, quite insulted.

"Everyone always had to do things to 'your standard', 'your expertise'. Oh and to 'your impression'. I felt sorry for your men lackeys." He sighed. I stood up and walked in front of him.

"Well mother and father always loved you. The 'weird' one. The 'odd' one. The 'clever' one. You got everything, including the money uncle had left for _me.__" _I hissed.

"Now, now, children. That's enough." John said.

"Shut up!" Sherlock said to him. "Henley..." He stood up. Towering over me. I saw him stare at me for a while and smirked.

"Can't read me this time?" I coyly said. ? came up in my head when I tried to read him. Only one thing was visible. Clean shaved. "Maybe you can recommend your shaver to John. He needs it." I said, grabbing my handbag and leaving but not before seeing John smooth down his lip hair.

I bumped into a woman. "Sorry. Mind's all over the place." She said, helping me up. I smiled at her.

"Mine too. Maybe not for the same reasons though." I looked at her closely. "Do you know where I can find a Philip Anderson? Afterall, you had an affair with him." Woops, maybe not the best conversation starter. Her eyes wore humiliation, fury and curiosity. She started to blush. "Ah, must be Sally Donovan." I held my hand out. She looked at me as if I were mad.

"Who the hell are you?" She said, stepping back in disgust.

"Sherlock Holmes' little sister, Henley Thorne-Holmes." Lestrade introduced me. Sally sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Another freak?" She said. I was highly insulted.

"If you may know, having an eidetic memory and being more clever than you does not make me a freak! How dare you say that." I huffed. She looked surprised.

"Different from her brother." She whispered to Greg. Greg scoffed.

"I wish." He whispered back.

"I can hear you!" I sang.

"Sherlock Holmes is alive." He told her. Sally shook her head in shock.

"No..." She said, backing away and my brother made his presence known. "How can you cheat death?" She asked.

"Trust me, he's done it before." I muttered, blowing my hair away from my face.

"Right, forget that I am a dead man walking and let's get cracking on these cases! How I missed solving them!" He clapped, happily.

"You've been around the world solving...-" Lestrade started but stopped when I glared at him. "Good to have you back, mate." He left it at that and threw him a case file. Sherlock looked a me with a grin.

"Miss Thorne-Holmes. How would you like to crack a _murder_?" He asked me.

"Just my cup of tea, Mr Holmes." I replied, with a smile.

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**Hoped you liked that! x**


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